Break Me
by TimeWasting
Summary: He's lost and he doesn't know where to go. He's ugly and convinced that love will never touch him. But can anyone blame him? His innocence was stolen.
1. Chapter 1

"No, James. Please, don't go. I want you to help-me-unpack." Kendall pleads and James stops at the door; the other male is less than convinced by his friend's words. He knows better than to believe him, he knows he's a liar and on top of that he's a freak.

Unsympathetically he toys with the door handle and watches as his friend winces from the torture "Yeah, well if that's what you_ really_ wanted you would have invited me here two years ago when you moved in and not now as some kind of sorry make-up attempt for breaking up the band."

Kendall shakes his heart hurt by his friend's harsh words and accusations. But he can't pull his words together, in a way; James is saying nothing but the truth. "You can't be mad at me for that. I mean. I didn't—. It's not that I didn't want to be in the band or to have you over... Just—. It doesn't matter. We're supposed to be best friends, man, give me a break…" it was supposed to come out as a command but it flowed like a plea from a helpless little child. That's what Kendall felt like, this wasn't fair, this wasn't his fault. He tried – he tried to make it stop.

But James laughs sarcastically none the less "Right, best friends." He nods then gets an evil look upon his face that makes his normally handsome complexion looking uglier than sin itself "Do best friends —."

Kendall cuts him off suddenly on the offensive, fearing what the words will do to him "Don't" He closes his eyes erasing all mental pictures and images. "Things are different now. It's over — I swear."

"Well, that's too bad" laughs James "because all I can do is _think _about it. That's why from now on we aren't friends anymore. That's why I shouldn't be here. That's why after I leave I'm never coming back. And, that's why you didn't invite me or the other guys over for two years. I'm not surprised that they didn't come. You can't deal with the truth — you can't deal with being around us when we know what he did to you. Admit it, Kendall; if not to me, or anyone else, then at least to yourself!" James demands

Kendall shakes head furiously "No! He didn't —. I didn't. Just—. Shut up!" he demands having all the horrible images just fly back into his mind.

"Shut up?" retorts James "Shut up?" suddenly furious he slams the door shut then grabbing Kendall by the collar pins his back to it. "Say it again!" he snaps and slams the other male once again "Say it again!"

A whimper escapes Kendall's lips and he feels the tears well in the corners of his eyes "James, stop." he pleads "please..." being forced into submission reminds him of the event and it reminds him in very vivid and painful detail.

"Please?" growls James once again slamming the other male against the door "PLEASE? You're disgusting!" he snaps then slams his hand on the door beside the others head "You're sick, Kendall!"

As he's released, Kendall lets his back slide down the door and begins sobbing bitterly "It wasn't — it wasn't my fault! It was my job!" he defends in a choke "What was I gonna do?"

James paces the room angrily before lunging at his former friend once again and puts a vise-grip on Kendall's neck "Tell somebody!" he snarls not able to believe his friends stupidity "Make it stop! But, no. No, you didn't stop it — you liked it!" he accuses and Kendall shakes his head furiously

"No, I don't — I didn't. I—." James's hand slams on the door again pushing Kendall to silence

"You little _faggot_! That's exactly why you didn't tell! Because you're gay! Because you LIKED it."

"No!" Kendall whimpers "I'm not I just he's"

"He's what? He's the manager of the apartments! Don't you see anything wrong with that? You ignorant" _slam_ "incompetent" _slam_ "worthless" _slam_ "idiot!" James's hand was practically smashing through the mahogany.

Kendall drops his head in shame, what can he say to his former friend's cruel words? What can he do to prove that he didn't let the molestation continue because he _'liked it'?_ Nothing, he can say nothing at all. But he's telling the truth...he never wanted any of this to happen...

* * *

Two years earlier, Kendall was fairly familiar with his attacker, two years earlier he wasn't such a nervous wreck and a broken shell. Things never hinted to the evils that would occur, the antagonist would watch him with careful eyes and give him heartless smolders, but that was normal, right? After all, Kendall and his friends did cause a lot of trouble on the premises. It'd happened before, people just liked to single out Kendall, it was no big deal. Wrong — it was bigger than a big deal. This man, the same man who was normally hanging around Kendall's baby sister, the same man who tried to get rid of Kendall and his friends so many times – was a rapist – a child molester – a sadistic tyrant.

"Now you stand in that corner and think about what you've done!" snapped the manager before chucking a handful of popcorn in Kendall's direction.

"Yeah, yeah." Snorted Kendall before taking his usual spot in the corner of the office, this wasn't out of the ordinary, it happened a lot to all of the boys, it was no big deal. But this time was different, the door closed and it locked and the lights dimmed leaving Kendall alone with the manager. "Wha –why'd you close the door?" he stammered

"Don't ask any more questions," growled the manager as he crossed the room and made a move for Kendall's direction "take off your pants."

"What?" Kendall was shocked by the request "But — but why? I — I don't wanna do that." He slowly turned around and backed up but came in contact with the corner's end; he wanted to make a mad dash. He wanted to disappear and pretend this never happen. He gulped "Please," he pleaded the closed his eyes when the much older male began to_ touch_ him "please don't do this."

"Why not?" he hissed carelessly and began touching Kendall in a way that made him squeak. "Don't you like it? Don't you like being the one who gets **humiliated**?"

"No!" he whimpered in a serious manner "And — and if you do it, I'll, I'll tell!" he threatened but his words were ineffective. His attacker continued at him intentionally torturing him to unwanted arousal and forced pressure. Kendall parted his lips to scream to say something but it was only to be met by the much older males tongue in a forced and miserable kiss.

"You won't tell anyone," he hissed "because if I can't have you — then I'll have one of your friends or maybe" his pause lingered and Kendall began to think of other possible victims "maybe your sister, little Katie?" he cooed.

A spark went off in Kendall's head and that was enough for him to say no more, to struggle no more, to fight no more. He'd do anything to protect his friends – to protect Katie. Anything. Over time he became accustomed the abuse, he tuned out every day at the exact same time and went completely numb while the other male fantasized and fondled him. He thought of nothing, he ignored the harmful effects to his future and he dealt. No one could know about it, no one could understand why he allowed it to continue, and that forced him to be alone. First it was Jo, she began to notice how distant Kendall seemed and one refusal to kiss her too many and she was gone – then it was the guys – they hadn't run so quickly but slowly and surely they all dropped off one by one until finally only James was left – but that had ended now. His family didn't understand what was the matter with him; they didn't know why he wouldn't take off his shirt when they went to the beach, or sit close to either of them and soon enough they just stopped caring all together. The last person Kendall could even think of turning to was his father, but they hadn't spoken recently – he'd been across seas for some missions work. That's right, Kale Knight was a missionary and though he and Kendall's mother were still going strong, Kendall wasn't on the same wave length. The abuse caused him to turn to drugs and other 'sins' for help. He was afraid to go to his father and he was afraid of the rejection or the damnation that could occur. But where else did he have to go? Kendall would have to talk to his father if he ever wanted to get over what had happened, if he ever wanted to be set free from the false notion of his worthlessness.

* * *

James leaves Kendall's apartment as quickly as he entered, leaving Kendall basking in a pool of his own tears and gut wrenching sorrow. Desperately Kendall wishes his friend would just listen to him, give him time to explain, but time is gone. It's too late for Kendall to tell James that he went through what he did for him; it's too late for any of that. Sniffling he sits up and swats away any stray tears as with his other hand, he fishes into his pocket for his phone. He scrolls the contacts at a swift pace but when he sees his father's name the temptation to back out arises. No! He tells himself: No, I can do this! And in desperation he dials the number his breathing halting when he hears it: _"Kendall, son, is that you? It's been a while? How you doin?"_ _Not so good dad, not so good._


	2. Chapter 2

Kale Knight has never really been close to his son, he's tried to interest him in the missions' field but Kendall's always been against it and everything else that required a coat and tie. Kale resists being upset with his son and decides to let him be his own person; he encourages him to play sports and is in an absolute state of glee when Kendall purses a singing career. But it's been sometime since Kendall did either of those things and Kale has gotten worried. The moment his son calls him he can tell something is wrong, Kendall's voice isn't as strong as it normally is and he practically begs his father to just come to California and see him. That's right; Kendall is living in the very city that his attacker resides in. Call him stupid, but he just can't seem to escape the bitter memory; and he can't go back to Minnesota because things were good there and now, now things will never be good again.

It's not as if Kendall has resulted to anything drastic though, he drinks, he smokes, and he cries but that's about it. He tried meth once, but it just wasn't for him, and even weed got old too quickly. He smokes in his new apartment and that's why when his father shows up the older man's lungs about collapse at how strong the smell is. In fact, the smoke is fresh because a haze of smog covers the atmosphere causing the spotless room to appear deadly and grey. "Kendall?" Kale coughs as he searches for his son. He's paid out a lot of money to assure he arrives in only a day. He walks through the empty living room then to the kitchen then the bedroom until finally he can hear the muffled sobs eliciting from the restroom along with the sound of the shower. "Kendall?" his concern grows deeper and he reaches for the handle – it's unlocked. Kendall whimpers when he hears the door open but remains sitting under the cool water, a dampened cigarette pursed between his lips. "Kendall?" Kale calls his son's name once again and rushes to his aid "Son," he first pulls away the cigarette then turns off the water "son – what're you doing? What's the matter?"

The younger male tries to look away but his father cups his face forcing their eyes to lock – Kendall hates that – that's how _**he touched**_ him too. He shies away from his father's grasp harshly pushing from the hands that are trying to save him "Don't touch me," he sobs then quickly turns back on the water "don't touch me – I'm dirty."

"You're dirty?" the older man's confusion is obvious, he turns off the water once again only to have Kendall fight him on it and, forces his arms around the younger man in a vice grip. But Kendall is frantic, flailing about and muttering curses and swears; Kale holds tight not about to let his boy go. "Kendall, calm down" he pleads keeping the same calm tone that his children have always loved, he's always been a gentle scolder, he's always lived what he preaches. "Kendall, boy, just calm down." He repeats finally able to pull his son to his chest. "Why are you dirty?" he asks softly and lightly strokes the boys dampened blonde locks.

Kendall sobs into his father's chest, he sobs so hard he's practically hyperventilating. He wants to say it, he wants to tell, this is his chance to have someone finally listen to him, to have someone finally understand. "He touched me. He touched me but I -. I didn't want him too!" he whimpers quietly then winces feeling his father's form go tense. He peeks upward sheepishly but instead of the hatred, the rejection that he fears he's met by a pair of compassionate emerald eyes.

Kale's at a loss for words, for thoughts, and the anger he so rarely feels begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach; but he doesn't ask any questions. His thick black brows furrow for a moment before settling and he continues to hold his son snugly to his chest "It's going to be okay," he told him "I'm going to take care of you."

To admit what had been done to him aloud is one of the hardest things Kendall has ever done but, his father makes it easier than expected. Kale listens with a nonjudgmental composure and simply rubs circles about his child's back like he would have had Kendal still been a small boy. "How long?" he asks quietly and his eyes suddenly dim and afflicted; Kendall only flinches at the question "It's okay," Kale tells his son and resumes rubbing the boys back "he's not going to hurt you anymore."

The childish weakness continues to show "But I'm – I'm a sinner aren't I?" he asks in a blubber "I'm going to hell?" he insinuates then looks at his father "You hate me?"

Kendall's words are wounding, Kale simply removes his hand from his sons back then forces him into a loving hug "I will never hate you," he tells him in a whisper "even if you hate me and we never speak again – I will never hate you. You will _always_ be my son and I will _always_ love you." He sighs on the next sentence "We're all sinners; but this sin is not yours – it's that man's. And you're not going to Hell, this isn't your fault."

"But I let him," Kendall sobs still feeling guilty "I didn't -."

"You were afraid," Kale reasons "what more could you have done? No one can be mad at you for that, Kendall."

Kendall closes his eyes "But they are," he whispers almost inaudibly "they hate me." He tells him "They all hate me."

"They don't hate you," Kale disagrees "your friends are just in shock – they're most likely angrier with themselves for letting things continue."

"And Mom?" Kendall asks weakly "What about her and Katie? What am I supposed to say to them? To do?"

Kale puts his hands on his son's shoulders and takes a good look at him; it breaks his heart to see him so helpless "Come home with me,"

"But – but what about your trip and China and-"

Kale only shakes his head then pulls his son back to his chest "This is more important," he tells him "you come first and there are other missionaries. I'm not leaving until I know you are okay and we get hat man put away."

The tears continue to silently roll down Kendall's cheeks and he collapses back into his father's embrace "I – I love you." He trembles

"I love you too," replies Kale without hesitation "and I will always love you." For the remainder of the afternoon he just holds his ailing child, ignoring the fact that they're both soaked from the shower water, and about to go through one of the toughest things yet. All these years Kale has been blind to the error of his ways, he's failed to see that being there for his son is what should come first. Though he'll never be able to rebound what was broken he's not leaving his family again, it's time to retire, it's time to be the father he never was. Kale is the only person who can save his son from his misery, Kale is the only person who can convince Kendall that he's not worthless and he's not a sinner for what was done to him. Kale must convince Kendall of his innocence and rebuild their rocky relationship. So he sits, sits on the sofa and holds his son promising not to let go until he's asked. His eyes stay wide open even after the boys asleep and he says a silent prayer for both of their strengths. Because heaven knows things aren't going to be easy and it's going to take more than hugs for Kendall to recover.


	3. Chapter 3

Hours after his arrival, Kale still finds himself sitting in the same spot he last settled. His son is still laying close by but he's now shied from his father's arms. The idea of going to the police has put an amount of sour resentment in Kendall's stomach, he trusts his father, but the police? Not so much. He's either seen too many cop shows or had too many real-life experiences; for all he believes they'll do is laugh at him, if not vocalize how absurd it is that a male of his stature ever got molested or abused. The assumption would be completely stereo-typical, one is never rightfully aware of the truth until it's revealed and the truth is that men are abused and molested just as often as women. Perhaps, we each know someone who's suffered such activity but never owned up to the act. But can we blame them? If it's embarrassing for a female – think how mortifying it must be for a male. One can assume they'd let themselves be castrated far before they allow expulsion.

Regardless of the odds, Kale doesn't want his son to let the attacker get away with the act. He tells Kendall time and time again that unless they go to the police and have Bitters incarcerated the boy will never heal, but Kendall smartly responds: "But then the whole world will know. How will that make things better? It's been three years; let's just hope Bitters is dead."

Kendall's answer isn't what Kale wants, but he's glad his son has found his voice. And, he's glad he's readopted his stubborn nature. It goes to show that no one can ever kill the fire. "The whole world won't know," Kale replies, but in honesty he's not rightfully sure "it'll take the burden off your chest. Dead or not, he needs to be brought to justice and answer for what he's done."

"But if he's burning in Hell, then he already has."

Kales without response for that one, his brows furrow and he keeps his eyes forward though he knows his son is looking right at him. He swallows unsteadily then releases a sigh "But it's not about him," he says carefully as he looks over at his son "it's about you – this is for _you_ to feel better."

Kendall laughs but it's not a hysterical or a good-hearted laugh, more an unconvinced snort "Ch – it'd make me feel better if I knew he was in Hell." It's clear that his pain has now turned to bitterness and hate, the tears are absent but the hurt has now twisted into a dastardly and dangerous form. '_Don't hate the sinner hate the sin'_; Kendall is doing the opposite. He glares in the direction opposite his father then shakes his head "It's too late to fix anything," his words are careless "I'm just going to be screwed up and gross for the rest of my life."

Glancing over at his son, Kales expression is harmed if not disappointed "Don't say that," he tells him "you're not screwed up and you're not gross."

"I'm not gross?" Kendall stands in front of his father then gestures to himself "LOOK AT ME DAD!" he's shouting now "LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME YOU AREN'T DISAPPOINTED!"

Without hesitation or scrutiny Kale looks up at his son "I'm not disappointed in you." He tells him calmly; though his heart still aches, not for what Kendall isn't, but for what another's sin is making him become. Regardless of the scruff on his sons chin, or the way he prefers his hair to be past his ears, or even how his pants sit low on his waist – Kale doesn't care. Kale's worry and disappointment lie in the condition of his son's heart; he aches to repair the broken organ and restore the joy that used to be ever-present in the boy's life. "When's the last time you played hockey?" he arches a brow

"Wha – what?" It's clear his father's question confuses Kendall, "What's that have to do with anything?"

Kale shrugs "It's just a question," he replies non-chalantly "now answer me."

Still confused but not willing to cause an unneeded argument Kendall rubs the back of his neck "I don't know…like a year?" It's a rough estimate, but most likely a correct one.

"Let's go to the rink." Kale suggests

"Dad? Why would we go there – we - ."

Kale interrupts and holds up his hand "Don't ask questions, just go get dressed."

Still at a loss for understanding, Kendall obliges, why would hockey be a good idea at a time like this?

* * *

His skates glide across the smooth top and for a moment he feels like he can breathe again, he holds out his stick as he goes then with perfect accuracy knocks one of the black pucks into the goal. "Nice shot!" grins Kale, leaning on his stick. His eyes sparkle in admiration for his son's talent and charisma. "Now show me one of those hat tricks or whatever they're called."

Kendall laughs "Those normally only happen during games, Dad. Do you even know what they are?" he shoots another puck into the goal then looks at his father

"Umm, of course!" Kale goes through a plethora of expressions all spitting image to his son's before finally releasing a sigh "No, I was thinking of a bunny rabbit and a magician?" he admits innocently

Kendall rolls his eyes and leans on his own stick "I thought so," he's obviously unimpressed "a hat trick is when a player gets three goals in a row – if it happens in hockey the buzzers go off and everybody cheers but if it happens in soccer then everybody tosses their hats onto the field."

"What about soccer?" asks Kale in confusion "What does soccer have to do with hockey?"

Kendall sighs and shakes his head "Never mind." He hits the last puck into the goal "That's a hat trick." He smiles proudly then looks at his father "You should try," Kale shakes his head "Oh, come on!" Kendall urges then gestures to the goal "You can even get up real close."

"Pfft." The father shakes his head "I'm not _that_ old," he reminds his son then gestures to the goal "get the pucks – this might just be epic."

"Epic? I didn't know you knew that word?" Kendal l skates over to the goal then hits the pucks back towards his father

Kale stops each puck with his skate then scoffs "Like I said before, I'm not that old."

"You're in the fifties." Replies Kendall

"That's not old." Laughs Kale

Kendall smirks and joins his father once again "That's what you said when you were in the fourties." He teases

"Well, of course" laughs Kale "everything gets younger once I reach it. You know that." He pats his sons shoulder

The boy shakes his head, more than unconvinced "Yeah, _okay_, Dad. _Sure_." He skates away once again then stands behind the goal "Just shoot, _old man_."

Kale shoots his son a playful glare then leans over adjusting his hold on the stick, he rears back for the first puck and WHAM right over Kendall's head and into the Plexiglas. The boy ducks then popping up looks at his father with wide eyes "This isn't golf!" he tells him skeptically. But Kale knows that, he also knows he has no idea to do anything with hockey; but this isn't for him. He's just glad his son's personality is coming back to him. Kendall did always love the ice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note: Okay, so first of all...thank you for the reviews! I meant to say something when I posted the second chapter but...I got lazy and But thanks, it means a lot! And, it really speeds up the whole thought process!**

**However, this chapter is noticibly short if not a quick read. The next will be longer, I promise, I just wanted to get this little interface out of the way. Also, I thought since he seems he'd be the most sensible, that I'd have Kale contact Logan to ask for help. Logan does seem like he'd be the most long-suffering when it would come to something like this, I mean we all can tell Logan's character in Big Time Rush kind of has his own self-esteem issuess...soo...yeah.**

**But thanks for the reviews again! And please keep doing so and let me know your thoughts :D**

****

-B.S. :| :D

_

* * *

_

_I'm not okay. This isn't making it better. I hope that guy rots in Hell, I hope my Dad just condemns him to go there…I mean – he's a pastor/preacher right? He can do that? That wouldn't be so bad. I'd feel better if I knew the rest of Bitter's miserable eternity was spent in a fiery prison of overwhelming darkness. Yeah, that'd make it all go away. That'd make it –. Oh, who am I kidding? This is always going to hurt just the same._ As he skates across the ice, circling the rink for about the hundredth time that day, Kendall allows his thoughts to wander. This is why he's always enjoyed hockey so much. The rink allows him to think, the rink allows him to remember that he's a morally sound and humanly understanding individual. Being without the ice for so long, almost made him forget his values, being without the ice and the ability to get a clear head, almost made him commit suicide on numerous occasions. Kale knows his son all too well, even being that he is someone who wasn't around most of the boy's teenage life. _I'm mad at him. Am I allowed to be mad at him? I mean, is it some unwritten sin to be mad at a person who took advantage of you? Who - . Who__** touched**__ you? I know I'm supposed to forgive, but how can I forget? How can I not be mad and how in the world am I ever going to have any physical contact with another human being? Let alone get married? I doubt any girl in the world wants to marry the submissive athlete who got fondled by a nearly 260 pound old man – but should I lie? If I fall in love am I justified in leaving out that part of my past? I mean, if I'm forgiving and forgetting then I shouldn't mention it right? I should just pretend it never happened and keep it under wraps?_ His skates skid to a stop and he runs his fingers through his hair. _No, I can't do that cause if something' happened and she found out then I'd be devastated…humiliated…I'd….I'd -. I'd be in the exact same spot I've been for the past few years…this sucks…this whole thing really sucks. _

"Kendall, we've got to go they're closing!" calls Kale, already off of the ice and working on slipping back into his loafers.

Kendall nods and skates towards the exit, then he sees him, standing by the exit and he skids to a stop so quickly that he actually falls onto his elbows and mutters a silent curse. He's frantic, his heart rate has sped up to about a mile a minute, and he's going insane. He doesn't want to go over there, he can't he's not about to let it happen again.

"Kendall? Son what's a matter?" The father looks around them but sees nothing, because unlike Kendall, Kale is sane. Kale doesn't have the haunting memories that his son does and he doesn't see the ominous demons floating freely about the atmosphere.

"Behind you, dad!" Kendall tries to warn his father but the older man looks around him and again he's met with nothing, nothing but the echo of his son's voice and the loud whir of the ventilator.

"Ken, I don't know what you're - ." Then things begin to piece together, slowly but surely Kale begins to understand what's happening. Kendall's fears are haunting him to the point of madness, the boy is clearly petrified; those emerald hues wider than average and those lips quivering in fear. But what can Kale do? What can he say to make things stop? Would it be wrong to play along? To say that he sees him too then rush to his son's aid in a promise to protect him? The honest man in him says YES but his fatherly motive says NO; he's a father first. Quickly, he dashes over the railing, not caring that he's no longer in skates. He slides on the knees of his dress pants to his son's aid then picks up the boy by his arm "Come on, hurry we can go the other way!" For a moment he and Kendall locks eyes, and it's clear the frightened boy believes his father. They make a mad dash for the other exit then make their way to the parking lot and Kendall's car. They drive, and drive, and drive until finally they're out of road. Miles from L.A. they find themselves in a diner in San Diego; but that's okay. Because once again Kendall is able to smile and carry on with his father, but for how long? How long can his false sense of safety be kept alive? And, how long until he finally loses himself to all the madness? When will Kale be able to tell his son of the things that aren't there? When will he find a solution to the painful memory and the heartache? How can he convince and assure his child of safety? How can he refrain from killing the very man who did this all. Even Kale has to admit, he wants that man to suffer forever touching his son. He wants him to pay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note:**

Alright, lifes been pretty crazy/depressing/lame lately so I was actually planning on giving up on this story and the others but, I'm reading a book about child abuse and I've read a lot of memiors of victims lately and feel that...even if it's not a true story...maybe this one can help people understand? I'm not an abused child, never have been, never will be.(Thank God) But, I still feel a pulling on my heartstrings for this one and that's why, that's why I'm going to continue and best portray the feelings I've read and encountered as much as possible. It felt neccessary to have this chapter in the 1st Person because that's the thing...no one ever really sees things from the victims point of view, how they felt, what they lost, what it cost. The first stage of abuse seems to be denial and I'm going to try my best to portray Kendall's in the realest manner I know. This chapter probably won't be that good, as far as "happy" and accuracies but the next chapters should be better...especially since Logan is going to come onto the scene. But for now, here's a dip into Kendall's mind...

* * *

It feels as if I've been ripped in two, that was the literal feeling of my third "encounter" with Mr –well, you already know his name. I can't bring myself to say it, I can't vocally recall what was done…but the detail is vivid…I remember every **aching moment** of the ordeal.

The guys and I had just finished up five hours of harmony exercises; I was planning on going out with Jo. Why? Because up to that point the only physical that happened was some fondling and some kissing. Up to that point, I could still pretend that things were normal. And for the most part – they were. Bitters was busy, and I was busy and I gladly took Gustavo's merciless yelling over being molested by the apartments manager.

"I'll see you DOGS later!" Gustavo announced and turned off the equipment. My friends began to jump up and down with glee and excitement; it was only 1:30 so there was plenty of daylight to spare. I, however, was less than thrilled. Less than that, if it's even possible to be so. It was a Wednesday and I knew for a fact that Bitters was NEVER busy on Wednesdays. When we got back to the Palm Woods, I walked the slowest. I kept my head down and my eyes forward. I prayed that if I was subtle enough Bitters wouldn't notice me – but he did. And the way he did made my stomach knot and the bile rise in the pit of my throat. Jo ran towards me just as Bitters stepped out from behind the counter and just in hopes of missing him, I embraced her lovingly and topped it off with a very sensual kiss. She gladly accepted. I've been told not to kiss with my eyes open, but I had too. I had to know when and where Bitters was, I had to make sure that he was and that if anywhere he wasn't behind me. When the kiss broke Jo began babbling on about her show and her day and I grinned through it all just glad that as long as she kept talking, Bitters wouldn't touch me. But then she stopped, Camille walked into the lobby and Jo evidently had something to tell her because that's what she said and that's what she did. She skipped away from me and slowly, and I watched my _only chance at survival _fade away.

"Oh, so sad." Bitters chuckled then motioned me towards the counter "Let's go," he demanded

I looked in Jo's direction hoping she'd see what was going on, hoping someone would notice. But no one did. I was completely alone. Bitter's had me exactly where he wanted me, and there was nothing I could do to escape him. I was…_his_.

Hours, it had to be hours that we were in that office and still, no one came lookin' for me. This time was different than all the others, this time he took his clothes off, this time he took my clothes off; this time he made me…he made me feel what every teenage GIRL doesn't want to feel. He stripped me of the very attributes that made me a male and slowly but surely, he _broke me_. I bled, I writhed, I bruised, I ached, and I whimpered as he had his way with me. In and out, in and out…every second slowly pushing me closer and closer to the edge and him too. Every second making me hate myself more than I already did; if anyone knew about this, they'd hate me too. I was exactly what James said I was. I was a _faggot._

Soon after that I began to notice that Bitters had more time for me and Gustavo had less need of me, the guys had their own things going on so we didn't really hang out that much. My mom was off job hunting; even Katie had other things to do. And Jo, Jo had her show to keep her occupied. It was only a matter of time before she slipped through my fingers, before she said there was something off about me and that if I wasn't that 'into her' I should tell her. She sealed the deal, hearing _**into**_ made my stomach flip and the bile rise all over again. I loved her, I loved her with all my heart but Jo, Jo had crossed a line that I wasn't willing to repair. And slowly but surely, I pushed her away. I started acting disinterested, I stopped trying, I stopped listening to her, and I began acting like a jerk until finally she got the message. It was the only way. My choice led her to not only break up with me, but to never speak to me again either, and that's how I wanted it. Things were better this way. Jo and I couldn't be friends because, every moment I spent with her just pushed me further down guilt lane. Jo, would never understand.

In follow up to the break up I began to have problems, _unnatural _problems. I began wetting the bed, yes here I was, a sixteen year old boy wetting his bed. As if life couldn't get any worse. As if I really needed more of a reason to be ashamed. It was a good thing I shared a room with Logan. I usually woke up early to erase all evidence before hand, but the days he woke up before me he always left clean sheets on the dresser and he never said a word about it. I don't know exactly what he thought, when he went off to med school we missed the chance to talk, but I have a feeling that if anything, Logan knew something wasn't right with me. And I'm glad that he never said a word about it. Even with the door open and a chance to open up, I don't think I ever really would have been able to admit things. Six months into the L.A. dream and I already wanted to go home. Because the seventh month was when Bitters started touching me. The seventh month was when I started hating myself and everything about this town. The seventh month ruined my life. And now at eighteen and a half, I can't seem to erase the vile memories from my head. I'm going to be like this forever. Forever alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Drum roll please because you are about to read the SHORTEST update EVER! *throws confetti* Now I know what you're thinking, you're probably thinking I'm running out of ideas and direction and all that good stuff. Actually, I've got plenty of ideas and plenty more for this...I just think this story flows better in small doses. Considering it is highly "Kendall focused", there's not a lot of dialog; it's more of a narrative of sorts. Thanks if you're still with me so far, I'm looking forward to getting back on board with this story! :]

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Kendall did a bad thing. He couldn't deal with the pressure of his father's watchful eye, or the thought of facing his mother, so he decided to do things differently. When he and his father were at the restaurant, he excused himself to the restroom and never came back. He felt bad because he didn't know how long his father would be waiting for him, but he just could not face his mother or his beloved baby sister. He'd burdened enough people with his problems; he needed to figure things out on his own.

He's not very good at figuring things out though, because it's only nine A.M the next day and his father has called him a record count of about fifty times. He wishes he'd stop. He wishes he'd go back to his ministry and leave him alone. Kendall is in a hole now; he doesn't even think that God himself is capable of fixing him. It's foolish, but he's gone so long without that his soft heart has turned into an ugly mound of grey. He doesn't know where to go, but he knows he's going to keep walking until he does.

He slept in the alleyway last night, with the rats and vagrants. He curled up beside a dumpster and cradled his knees to his chest. He probably got a record of about two hours. It's been so long since he slept soundly, he doesn't even really remember how _to_ sleep. _**He hates himself**_; and it's not hard to tell by looking at him. His father convinced him to get a haircut, his normally long and shaggy hair now down to a neat flop. He shaved too but it's early and he can already feel the returning stubble when he brings his calloused fingers to his face. _**He's ugly**_. He avoids every mirror, every puddle, and every window just so he won't have to look at himself. He keeps his head down as he treks along the worn cement. He's searching, but he doesn't know what he's looking for. _**He's lost**_.

Los Angela's is a small city when you're well known. He knows that but, he doubts any old fan would have a desire to talk to him. Everyone knows he's the reason for Big Time Rush's demise. Because he couldn't man up and endure, he and his friends were out of the job. Because of it, he smashed all of his instruments. He used to play the drums, the guitar, the piano – but not any longer. He doesn't even hum to himself or listen to the radio. _**He hates music**_.

"Hey, watch it!" he's shoved a few steps backward and his back hits a pole. He's so concentrated on his steps that he hasn't been watching for oncoming pedestrians. _**He's an idiot**_. He makes eye-contact with the aggressor but it's almost as if the man is transparent.

"Hello? Buddy?" the man waves his hand in front of the green-eyed boys face but he's met with no sound and no response. Kendall doesn't even blink. "Whack job," he mutters before muscling his way past.

Kendall's eyes close and he listens as the footsteps fade out of tune. One...two…three…four…five….si – the man's gone. But upon closer observation of himself, Kendall realizes something else: so is his wallet. He hasn't got the spirit to pick a fight and the man was so close to him that he almost vomited from the smell of after shave and cologne. He doesn't want to deal with anyone. He doesn't need his wallet.

Blindly, he continues on down the sidewalk until finally he's had enough of his accursed phone. He tosses it down so hard that it splits and shatters on the pavement. **He wants to be alone**. He doesn't want daddy dearest to come to his rescue, he doesn't want to be touched or talked too, he just wants to be left to himself. And most of all, **he wants to get some alcohol**.

"Sweet thang," he hears a soft sultry voice but continues walking. They're not talking to him, there's nothing 'sweet' about him. "_Sweet thang_?" the voice allures again.

He looks over his shoulder and he's surprised to see a short haired, tall, slender, and skimpily dressed African American woman standing near the mouth of the alley. "Come here, you lookin' for a _good time_?"

And it's then that he finds himself drawn to go with her, he doesn't know why but he can't make himself turn away. His light is growing dimmer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note: go over to "the break me diary . tumblr . com" for graphic art and an inside look at what goes on in Kendall's head during the story. Please Read & Review. **

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He followed her into the alleyway. He stood in silence as she went over the details of what would and wouldn't be done. Stupidly, he nodded his head. He's sitting on the edge of a bed, in a hotel room. He's shirtless, he's sweating but, he hasn't done anything. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, I'm done" she announces as she comes out of the bathroom but he doesn't turn to look at her. He hasn't actually said a word the whole time they've been together. He doesn't know what he's thinking. **He can't think**. "Sweet thang, you alright?" her voice carries hints of worry and he can't help but feel guilty for his silence. He wants to do this and then he doesn't. He wants to get it over with but then he doesn't. He wants to go home but, it's too late. **He can't turn back now**.

"You gonna take off your pants?" the bed barely shifts as she sits down beside him. She's so thin yet at the same time she looks fairly healthy. She has less hair than he first realized, her hair is practically buzzed but her assets and her large hoop earrings tell of her womanhood. He wants to look in her in the face, or at least, he thinks he does. He just doesn't know how. He's dirtier than her, she maybe a prostitute, but he's - **he's garbage**.

He feels her barely covered thigh graze against his leg and his breathing hitches just the slightest. "What's a matter?" she asks breathily "You nervous?"

"I – I can't do this." He stammers. His brows pinch together as he realizes how far he's about to go "I – I don't even have my wallet."

She backs off at that point "Oh, so you broke right?" her tone isn't so alluring anymore but for some reason she still runs her fingers through his hair "What's a matter with you, white boy? You seem all down, depressed, and deadly. You got beef?"

He looks over at her and his expressions baffled "Do I have what?"

She laughs and licks her plump, black lipstick covered lips "Beef, baby boy – you know, like problems wit' the gang or somethin'."

"Oh." He gives a faint nod then looks back down at his lap "No."

"Well then what it is? You broke, you depressed and you alone…you get kicked out of your house?"

"I'm nineteen…" he replies numbly

She laughs again "Boy, stop, that aint mean a thang out hur. All most all the dudes I been known still live with they mommas."

"I don't live with my mom."

"Well, okay den'" she gently brings her hand to touch his face "then what it is? Ya'll can tell me, aint like I'm the police or somethin'."

He doesn't really enjoy being touched, but he doesn't push away from her hand "I – I didn't do anything" his brows furrow "or at least – I didn't mean too – someone else did…" he says quietly

"What they did? They kill somebody? Steal somethin'? Talk bout' ya momma? Ooh, did they **break something**?"

At that point he scoots away from her hand "Yes." He nods then closes his eyes as all the images fly right back at him.

She scoots closer as if oblivious to his need for space, then puts a hand on his shoulder "What they broke?"

His voice cracks and his eyes begin to water as he makes himself say it "Me." He states softly then begins to sob "They broke me."

He's expecting her to go now, to just leave him to his tears and get back on with her life. But she stays. She pulls him into a comforting embrace and he cries on what little portion of her chest is covered. No one says a word, and nothing is heard but the soft sounds of his sobs and stuttered breathing. He never expected a prostitute to be the kind of person he poured his heart out too. She listened and she didn't make him elaborate. It was like, like she understood all along. And now, now he's attached to the feeling. The feeling that someone can just let him cry without trying to fix everything, that someone just lets him tell his story and doesn't ask all the questions he hates to answer.

It's around twelve now and he feels bad for keeping her from her work. They fell asleep in one another's arms and he feels bad for whatever she may have expected from him. Though, she almost seemed relieved when she found out that he didn't want to sleep with her. He begins to consider her being just like him. He begins thinking she never wanted any of this.

He rolls onto his side and picks his shirt up off the floor. He goes to the window and redresses before turning back to the bed. He doesn't even know her name and she let him pour out his heart to her. He hasn't even tried to get to know her and she – **she's gone**? He knew this would happen. Now he has to leave.

The streets suddenly feel colder than they did earlier. He huddles his arms close to his torso and has to remind himself what month it is – **it's October** – of course it's cold. He should find somewhere to stay for the night. He'll probably make his bed by a dumpster again, or, in other words, he'll sit on the asphalt until his eyes roll shut. He keeps walking and ignores the chill that's around him. And just like that…he feels like **his lights gone out**.


	8. Chapter 8

Timory is a prostitute. She's been whoring herself out since she was fourteen and now that she's twenty-one she could really care less about turning back. She used to dream about it all the time. When she was a little girl, she wanted to be a model. Her momma told her she could be but, then she sold her to a bad man in exchange for drugs. Timory will never forgive her mother for that. Because of her mother she never finished school, got her first kiss (in the right way), or had a boyfriend. Her whole life has been nothing but letting vile men touch her in exchange for money that she really doesn't even get to spend. So she wasn't expecting today to be any different, she called out to white boy on the sidewalk because he looked desperate and quick. Who knew quick would mean walking away with no pay, a burden, and sleeping in a bed with someone who really didn't want to touch you. Maybe that's why she still feels bad about leaving him, but she did it for his own good. She had to tell her boss where she was and, by the time she got back he was already gone. Guess he'd gotten over that **burden** of his.

It's late and she hasn't made a dime today. She's going to get in trouble, she knows it, but yet she doesn't really care. The most her _**Sugar Daddy**_ will do is give her a fat lip and say she's not his favorite. Like she gives a crap; she doesn't like him anyway. He's stupid, the other girls are stupid, and **everyone is just stupid**. Well, **except for that white boy**. He actually seemed kind of smart. He also seemed kind of messed up and lost. That's why Timory didn't do any work. She was trying to see if she could find him, he probably thought she abandoned him, which, in a way, _she did_. But that was before and this is now.

"White boy!" she probably looks more than ignorant calling out for a white male in a mostly white area. If she draws too much attention, someone will probably call the police, but she doesn't really care. It's not as if she hasn't been arrested before, and besides, white boy needs someone to tell him how this whole 'street life' thing works. No one knows the ropes better than Timory.

"White boy!"

Kendall sits up a little too fast when he hears a loud voice calling out in the park. He doesn't know who they're talking too, but he's so startled by the sound that he sits up to see. The lady from the alley? Who could she be looking for? He looks at her for a split second before turning his back.

"Don't you turn away from me!" she scolds and he can hear her footsteps as she gets closer "Why you ran away?" He looks down at his lap and she comes around in front of him and touches his face just like before, only this time she lifts his chin "Come on, don't play me white boy, why'd you leave the hotel?"

He stares at her for the longest time before he gently removes her hand from his face and looks back down at his lap. "I didn't leave." He mutters in response

She laughs "Uh, yes you did!" she half-announces to the world "Ya'll just done put on ya shirt n left me!"

"You were already gone…"

"But I was comin' back!" she lies "Dang, white boy, you gotta use that head of yours. It'll do you some good."

"Bull crap!" Now he's mad. He stands up and his 6'0" form towers her small 5'9" one "You were already gone when I woke up! And my head hasn't done ditty-squat for me! There's nothing anyone can do anyway **it's too late**!" his brows are dropped in anger as he glares down at her. His lungs and heart are pulsating so fast and hard that it's almost painful.

"Oh?" surprisingly she's not even a bit scared of him "Listen here!" she jabs him in the chest with her finger "Ya'll don't know a dang thing about being broken! Ya think cause **one bad thing** happens that everything is over? Dun' even try to sell me that! It's bogus and you know it!" she drones on "Ya'll is a big boy and it's time to man up and **face ya' fears**! What you gonna do? Run till some crazy dudes come n' end ya sufferin?" she pauses and she can tell by the change in his expression that she's getting somewhere "**You can't run away**!" she screams "**You can't just give up! **You're not allowed! You can't – I – **I won't let you**!"

"Why do you even care?" he snaps in response and steps closer to her "Why the heck **do you even care about me** or anything that I've gone through? I didn't pay you! We didn't even do anything! You shouldn't even be talking to me!"

She slaps him for that one and his head turns with the impact. "Don't even play that!" she fires back "Don't act like you know me; you don't know a thing about me! And maybe, maybe **sometimes people just care about people**! It's what we're _supposed_ to do!"

He holds his cheek but even then he's still upset with her for making him talk. "Look, I'm sorry I made you **listen to me** at the hotel okay? But you asked!" he flails his arms at his sides "**You asked and I told**, that doesn't mean anything!"

She places her hands on her hips and sinks her teeth into her lip to keep from punching this boy in the face. Why is he so stupid? Then again, why does she care about him so much? It doesn't matter, she's given up a whole day of work for him and she's not leaving until he listens.

"See you can't even say anything," he continues ranting "because you and I both know **you shouldn't care**! **I'm dirty, I'm ugly, I'm disgusting**, and I should just di-."

She doesn't let him finish his sentence. She crashes her lips into his and holds him close by a fistful of his white t-shirt. **Sometimes words really aren't enough**. Someone has to **show this boy love** before he does something stupid. Guess that'll be her.

As the kiss ends, he swallows before finally looking eyes with her. Her eyes are beautiful; they're deep brown and sparkling. Her eyes tell a story he's yet to hear. "What's your name?" he whispers softly and shakily brings up a hand to caress her cheek

"Timory." She replies calmly and keeps her gaze locked with his "what's yours?"

"Kendall," he tells her "my name is Kendall and Timory…**please don't leave me**."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Note: Okay, this chapter is a little different since more people are becoming involved but it'll go back to it's usual format after things get resolved. Thanks Ireland Maslow for all the reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying this and don't worry, things will get better soon. :)**

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"White boy! White boy, wake up!" sings Timory as she sits over Kendall's sleeping form. They took refuge for the night under the big oak tree in the middle of the park.

Her black tunic top is already covered in rain and his fairly sculpted torso visible beneath his white t-shirt. It's raining and it's cold; she doesn't really want to be outside any longer. "Okay, so ya'll just gonna lie there and stuff well then" she stands up and moves to get off of him when suddenly his hand shoots out and he grabs her firmly by the waist.

"Just relax," he says with a sleepy smile "I'm awake."

She raises her brows questioningly then smirks "Then why ya'll lettin' me yell at you like a fool?"

"Because," he chuckles and makes her sit back atop him "I think it's _cute _when you yell." He admits happily then sits up and pulls her into his lap "And, the rain is nice – just let it fall."

She snuggles against him and lays her back to his chest "I guess you right," she agrees with a faint nod "and ya'll needed a bath anyway."

He shakes his head and lightly kisses her neck before he lays up against the oak tree. "So I wanna run somethin' by you," he announces quietly

"Anything ya'll please, long as it gets us out this nasty rain!" she huffs and rings out the end of her top

"I have to go home," he quietly admits and awaits her reaction "but" he leaves no room for questions "I want – I want you to come with me."

Timory lets silence hang between them. She doesn't even know what 'home' is. She doesn't even know where home is and Kendall's just inviting her to his…he's not thinking straight. Yeah, that's gotta be it.

"Ya'll hit your head last night?" she picks at the grass self-consciously and hangs her head "I think – I think ya'll hit your head."

"Hit…my…head?" his brows pinch together and he shakes off the confusion "No, I didn't hit my head. Timory, I want you to come home with me."

"Ya'll barely even know me," her tone lacked her usual amount of attitude and sass

He chuckles quietly and gives her a light squeeze "That's the point. I want to get to know you, Timory, and I have a feeling if I go home and you don't come with me that I'll – I'll never see you again."

He doesn't hide the fear in his voice. He knows darn well that if he lets her go now it'll be the last time. So what if they don't 'fall in love, so what if things don't work out? They could be friends and he'd still have some portion of what he wants. She doesn't have to tell him that she's spent her whole life hurting and just waiting for more. **He's not stupid**. He knows that she has. And now, now he wants to give it to her. She deserves it and she's a nice girl. She's done so much for him in such a short amount of time that he; he wants to spend a lifetime just making it up to her.

She laughs "Heh," turning around in his lap she nods shyly "you probably right – cuz if I go back to my Sugar Daddy, he aint gon' be happy bout me spendin' all my time with a lost lil' white boy." She teases

He smiles and rests his forehead against hers "So you'll think about it?"

"Already been done," she agrees "I have a feelin' if I don't go ya'll aint never gon' get ya butt off the street."

"Smart girl." He nods smugly

"You such a brat," she giggles then chastely kisses his lips "but you sweet – I aint never met no man like you, Kendall."

"I've never met anyone like you before either, Timory, never."

Just three blocks away Logan and Camille were searching for their friend. They'd gotten married (it was bound to happen) and they were living in Texas. Logan used some of his old band money so they could make it to California in good time. He was worried about Kendall and he knew he never should have left LA until his friend was better.

"Baby," Camille hangs loosely on her husband's arm "don't beat yourself up over this, we're going to find Kendall."

Logan shakes his head in disbelief "But what if we don't?" he asks, he's already an emotional wreck "What if we don't? I should have stayed – I should have said something – I should've told someone"

"No," Camille interrupts "if you told, Kendall would have been devastated. Let's be glad that he's ran away and not seriously harmed himself." She stops walking and gently pulls him close "Hey," scanning those big brown eyes she gently strokes his damp brown hair from his eyes "he'll forgive you – you have to forgive yourself." she tells him with a kiss before continuing to walk "Now let's find this boy before it rains any harder."

He smiles faintly but he's still not so sure of how sure he is, and, he doesn't know how Kendall's going to take the news about his father. Kale didn't exactly shrug off his son's disappearance and take a knee for prayer. No, Kale Knight is angry with God; he feels betrayed. If Kendall doesn't come back, Kale's faith might disappear – forever.

The rain begins falling harder and Logan gives Camille his jacket for cover. Normally, they would have been prepared but LA rains were just too unpredictable sometimes.

"God," Logan prays quietly and stares up into the watering sky "please let Kendall be alright and please, please don't be angry with Mr. Knight, he's just – he's really scared, God, we all are. Oh, and thanks for the rain, it's kind of calming. Amen." He sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets before running to catch up with Camille.

"I found him!" she begins shouting and points frantically in the direction of the park "Over there! Underneath, underneath the tree!"

"Where?" Logan brushes by her and squints to see through the heavy downpour "I don't – THERE!" he shouts happily then pulls her into a tight hug "Oh, baby you're amazing!" she says spinning her around then covering her face in kisses

"Alright, alright" she giggles "put me down and go get your friend. You're gonna make this baby sick."

"That's right," he says quickly and sets her down "you don't feel nauseated do you? Do you need some crackers? We can go back to the car and -."

"Logan," she smiles "go get Kendall."

"Right," he nods eagerly then steps away from her "I'm gonna go…go get Kendall."

"Thanks, God." Whispers Camille as she looks up at the sky "You're pretty darn good with the directions thing." She smiles warmly then watches as Logan dashes through the street and puddles to get to Kendall.

"Kendall! Kendall!"

"Somebody callin' your name?" Timory questions and looks behind them to see a short raven haired man coming in their direction

"I don't think they – wait" Kendall takes a closer look as the man becomes closer, then arches a brow "_Logan?_"

"Kendall!" Practically out of breath, Logan finally reaches his friend and kneels over for a momentary breather before righting himself "Man, I'm so sorry that I left and your dad and I just – please come home?" he practically begs

Timory climbs off Kendall's lap and allows him to stand "Logan," he puts his hands on his shorter friend's shoulder and nods "I'm coming home."

"You are? Your – wait" Logan's eyes fall on Timory and smirks just the slightest "who's that?"

"Ah," Kendall reaches for Timory's hand "come on" he chuckles and pulls her to his side "don't be shy now. Logan," he looks at his friend "this is Timory; Timory, meet Logan – me and him go way back."

"Pleasure," Logan grins, otherwise indifferent to the fact that Timory is so skimpily dressed. If she makes Kendall happy, he isn't about to judge. As he shakes her hand he looks up at Kendall "So you TWO ready to go?" he questions knowingly "It's too cold out here and I'm starving – come on, we've got a lot of catching up to do." He tells them before jogging back to where his wife is "and Camille is waiting!"

"He – he was nice?" Timory asks looking up at Kendall with wary eyes. She was sure his friend would say something about the two of them

"Of course he was nice," Kendall smiles down at her then kisses her forehead "he's Logan, Logans' always been nice and besides, you're not an easy person to be mean to. Now let's" he wraps an arm around her shoulders "let's go home."

And she smiles, home sounds nice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author Note: This chapter is EXTREMELY short and I apologize for that, I just needed to throw it out there before I crank out the next one...which will be longer.**

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Home is where he knows he should be. But, he doesn't want to go there. If he goes home, home to Minnesota he's going to have to face everything; his mom, Katie, his…friends. How can he face them? What's he going to say to them? She senses his anxiety. She intertwines her long fingers with his and begins swinging their hands in attempt to soothe him, but he's not responding. His eyes look glassy and the smile that was on his face for the first few blocks, has vanished. Logan hasn't noticed yet, or he has and he just doesn't want to say anything. Camille knows, but she too is playing silent. Everyone has the same thoughts running through their head, if they speak up about what's wrong – Kendall will run away again.

"You aint…you aint aight are you?" Timory asks him as the stand outside the diner. She never takes her gaze away from his face, she's afraid if she does she'll miss something.

He moves to nod but instead simply looks down at his feet "I don't know what's wrong with me," he bites his lip. He feels guilty. "I thought…I thought I was okay"

She touches his arm tenderly "Ya'll don't gotta be aight like magic, Ken, it's okay to still be hurtin'."

"But for how long?" he asks her with a wary tone "How long am I going to feel so…so…I don't even know what I feel." He declares in frustration

"Aint nothin' wrong with that," she shrugs then looks in the front window of the diner. Camille and Logan are asking for a table, they agreed to give Kendall and Timory a moment alone.

"Run away with me?"

The sound of his voice, no, his words break her from her muse. She was thinking about what it must be like to be happy and sheltered. Now she's wondering why he would ask such a thing. It's not that she wouldn't do it, it's just that she doesn't understand him. "Whiteboy," she places her hands on his cheeks and looks up at him "why you wanna run away again? Aint you learned a thing?"

"No," he replies in a broken whisper "not yet…I'm not…I can't face this yet."

Her face scrunches in confusion "Boy, you just wanted to go home about twenty minutes ago. Why you so nervous now?"

"I don't know!" he exasperates. He thought this would be easier to talk her into "I just don't want to go."

She purses her lips and silence surrounds them. "Aight." She agrees "We gon' run, but when your friend is hurt and worryin' you're gonna be sorry."

He glares at her. He can't believe she's doing this. "You're guilting me?" he laughs, nothing funny about the situation.

"No," she answers bluntly "I'm just telling you what ya'll is doin' if you decide to go"

And it's then that he's caught in an inward battle with himself. Will he stay or will he go?


End file.
